#myhrv

eyes    are    squinted,    shifting    between    the    gun    against    her    and    the    woman    holding    it.    a    small    hum    leaves    her    lips    as    her    top    drifts    upwards    with    the    gun    leading    its    path.     ❝     you    know,     ❞     a    pause    of    taunting    tone    as    she    leans    forward,    allowing    the    metal    to    press    further    into    her    skin,    tilting    her    chin    upwards.    ❝     if    you    want    to    get    me    shirtless    all    you    have    to    do   is    ask    nicely.     ❞

@myhrv​​ : ‘ in a nutshell, it slaps. ’

@myhrv​ says: “Could you love this?” 

“I’ll be okay admiring from afar.” / @myhrv​ /  dodie meme.

“  what?  ”  body  glistens  with  a  sheen  of  sweat  underneath  the  club  lights.  in  the  places  where  it  doesn’t  cling  to  her  skin,  malia’s  tank  top  hangs  loose  and  low  off  her  frame.  she  pinches  the  middle  of  her  shirt  and  pulls  it  away  from  body  over  and  over,  trying  to  cool  herself  off.    “    no,  no,  no,  del,  come  on!  you’re  dancing  with  me  ‘cause  if  another  guy  tries  to  rub  his  dick  on  me  again,  i’m  gonna  rip  it  off,  then  i’ll  get  us  kicked  out,  then  the  night  will  be  ruined.  ”

after  she  completes  the  task  of  getting  delilah  up  onto  her  feet,  malia  wraps  her  arms  around  her  neck,  threading  her  fingers  together.  the  music  is  so  loud  that  it  vibrates  through  every  crack  in  the  wooden  floor,  electrifies  the  nerves  in  her  legs  and  it  embeds  itself  into  her  hips,  taking  control  and  swaying  them  from  side  to  side.  eyes  the  color  of  mahogany  and  lit  with  a  devilish  gleam  stay  on  delilah  as  malia  pulls  her  closer.  she  bites  down  on  her  bottom  lip,  fingers  absently  playing  with  the  ends  of  platinum  locks.  

being  soft  wasn't  something  malia practiced  regularly ,  but  for  delilah,  she  learned.  as  if  she  could  fight  the  way  delilah  made  her  feel  just  by  being  close  enough  to  her.  she  had  tried,  she  had  failed  and  repeated  the  cycle  over  and  over  until  she  laid  her  weapons  down  and  accepted  that  this  girl  had  captured  her  heart,  showing  malia  that  she  wasn't  as  guarded  as  she  liked  to  believe.  that  didn't  have  to  be  a  bad  thing,  in  fact,  delilah  was  not   only  a  good  thing , but  best  thing.  even  if  she  was  kind  of  being  a  loser  by  not  wanting  to  dance.

text post starters (accepting!) » delilah myhre.

          SILK-LIKE STRANDS of platinum hair slip through Malia’s fingers as Delilah’s head rests on her lap. It wasn’t planned for her to be there, Del hadn’t even asked, there was no need to. She just made herself comfortable, like she always did and Malia played with her hair, like she always did. Tried not to focus on Delilah’s lips too much, like she always did. Forced herself to stop thinking about kissing her one of these days, like she always did.

          ❝Do you...❞ Thumbs brush against Delilah’s cheeks as Malia combs through her hair. A deep breath is taken to calm the pounding of her heart, ❝Do you think...I could be one of those girls? Soft and, and amazing and nice and beautiful. Complex. Loving. Caring.❞

          Voice fades to a whisper and then to nothing as she continues to go on. How could she be? Teeth pull her bottom lip into her mouth, piercing the soft flesh. 

         ❝Do you think I could be that to you too? Am I, I mean? I—❞ God, why couldn’t she stop talking? What was she even talking about? Stop chasing a fantasy where she could be more to Delilah. She was a good friend at best to her, she might as well leave it at that before she ruined everything.

text post starters (accepting!) » delilah myhre.

          DUMBFOUNDED, Malia has no answer for Delilah. Not one that would make sense. Give her a second, it was still cooking. Eyes squint, lips purse. A sentence is begun and then quickly abandoned. 

text post starters (accepting!) » delilah myhre.

          CUTE wasn’t the word to describe the current mood. Clown, maybe. Cartoonish. Cowboy, oh yeah. Her dad had dug up her old gear and while the boots were way too small, her ratty old cowgirl hat still, miraculously, fit. Feeding off of Delilah’s enthusiasm, Mr. Tate had dug around to find her some of his cowboy boots that would fit Malia. 

          To please Delilah, Malia had somehow ended up with her flannel hiked up and tied in a knot right above her navel. A pair of denim shorts stopped right below her butt. To her dismay, her hair was now long enough to put in two French braid pigtails. She didn’t feel cute, she felt like she was on display at a circus.